


The Setting Sun.

by orphan_account



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Adaptations - All Media Types, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were watching the knights as they concluded their final drills, sharpening weapons and sparring half-heartedly. There was a kind of frantic electricity, that unease in the evening air that only came on the eve of battle."</p><p>Arthur and Merlin watch the sun set over Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Setting Sun.

“The legends will remember us.”

Arthur turns to face his companion, chain mail glinting in the last of the day’s light. The fiery glow casts their faces into sharp relief, illuminating lines that crept up under the cover of time, and the eyes that yet remained the same.

They were watching the knights as they concluded their final drills, sharpening weapons and sparring furiously. There was a kind of frantic electricity, that unease in the evening air that only came on the eve of battle.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of consolation?”

“No, you know that’s not-!”

Arthur raises a hand to silence Merlin with a weary look, and his next words are quiet.

“I know.”

On the green beneath, Sir Elyan is gathering up debris left by the day’s training, his silence not uncharacteristic but somehow more marked. Similarly quiet is Sir Percival, pausing to watch the sun sink below the horizon one final time. Sir Gwaine’s shadow slashes and glances across the grass, the last man with a sword in his hand, still sparring with the newly-knighted Sir Gillan, but fighting idle thought. Sir Galahad watches him, the youth of his face even more pronounced by the emotions he is trying to prevent it from betraying. Sir Leon watches them all before glancing up at Arthur, inclining his head toward his king in a respectful gesture despite their familiarity. As he resumes his duties, Arthur turns away from his men.

“Morgana and her allies outnumber us three to one, Merlin.”

His friend does not look at him, but grimaces slightly.

“You’ve faced worse.”

“It feels different though, this time,” Arthur replies, and inhales deeply “I think this may be the last sunset I see.”

“Don’t say that. Arthur, you’re not-“ Merlin begins, his voice carrying a note of anxiety undetectable to anyone but Arthur.

“I might. I’ve never feared dying.”

“And now?”

“And now… I have made my peace with destiny. I have done what I was meant to do. I have tried to make things right in my time. And tomorrow, I make a final stand for my kingdom or die in the attempt.”

Merlin finally looks at him, a wry smile ghosting across his features.

“I thought I was supposed to be the wise one.”

“I’m the king, I’m allowed to be wise too.”

“You’re allowed, of course, but you’re too busy being a dollophead.”

Arthur lets out a chuckle, breaking the tension at long last, and Merlin grins from beneath his long beard. Even though he is King Arthur’s Chief Advisor and Court Sorcerer, even though he is revered as the greatest magician in Albion and hero-worshipped by the students of his Academy, even though he is Emrys the living legend, somewhere he is still the boy who picked a fight with a prince twice his size all those years ago.

Most of the knights have retired now, departing to while away these final precious hours. Percival and Elyan lean against the fence, staring out over the city wordlessly, both men of few words and deep thought. Leon instead pauses as he crosses the grass to take in the illuminated walls of the citadel that has been his home since birth. Galahad, so closely resembling his elder brother in terms of looks and nature, bears the same resigned expression as before the latter had strode into the sundered veil. Gwaine finally notices Ragnelle standing at the edge of the training grounds and makes his way to meet her, when he does winding an arm around her waist and retiring at last. Gillan watches his parents leave before departing in the opposite direction, twirling his sword as he goes.

“Llacheu isn’t happy that you’re not letting him fight.” Merlin remarks, and Arthur’s face hardens once more.

“He’ll survive, I’m sure.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Arthur glances up at Merlin ruefully, and lets out a deep sigh.

“He’s my only son. I can’t risk his life. Camelot needs a king.”

Merlin’s eyes widen.

“Arthur, stop—“

“No, Merlin, you stop.” Arthur’s tone is authoritative as he faces his best friend squarely “You need to accept that you will need to be there for him when I’m gone. He’s young, he’s untested, he’s—“

“Like you were when you became king.” Merlin replies quietly, and his meaning does not evade Arthur, who claps a grateful hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to retire. We intercept Morgana’s forces tomorrow morning, and to gain the high ground we need to ride at dawn. It’s the only hope we have.”

“The high ground?” Merlin sounds perplexed “I thought she was moving along the Plains of Eifonyd?”

“They diverted north unexpectedly. We meet at Camlann Hill.”

Arthur misses the look of sheer horror on Merlin’s face as he turns away from the vista of his city, his kingdom. There will be time enough for farewells to old friends in the morning.

Merlin alone remains as the sun vanishes, and the day dies.


End file.
